Orders of an Elder Time
by reading-is-in
Summary: Follows 'Events in Sun and Shadows'.The year is 2019. Adam and Ben are making some kind of life together. But the demon, to coin a phrase, is still out there, and Ben's dreams start to take a strange turn.
1. Chapter 1

_He who has wrought shall pay; that is law./ Then who shall tear the curse from their blood?/ The seed is stiffened to ruin_. – Aeschylus, _Agamemnon_, 1564-566. 

_You won the ancient goddesses over with wine/And so destroyed the orders of an elder time_. - _The Eumenides_, 727-28.

May 2, 2019.

Ben awoke and sat bolt upright in bed, images of his nightmare already fading from his brain. In the first months, he'd dreamed of it almost every night. Half-formed memories of blood, splintered wood and torn flesh. And….something else. He had never seen the demon that killed his family, other than as a swirl of black smoke spiraling away from an abandoned warehouse – but lately his mind had been playing tricks on him. The cruel suggestion of – presence.  
When Ben and Adam had started sleeping together, the nightmares had decreased to about twice a week. It was sharing a bed and not anything else that made the difference – they had 'gotten together', to use the dumb teenage expression Ben still hadn't found a good substitute for, the Christmas Ben was seventeen, but Adam had refused to go all the way until Ben's eighteenth birthday. Ridiculous, but Adam had some strange ideas, and could be immovable once he'd made up his mind about something. The night Ben lost his virginity he had fallen asleep hard, but still woken a few hours later from a particularly bad dream. Sex, for all the expectation which surrounds it for a person who had waited till the age of eighteen, didn't fix your life. It released some pretty awesome endorphins. But it didn't save your world.

"Hi," Adam said sleepily, waking up – it was the first thing he usually said upon waking, and depending on his tone, could mean anything from 'good morning' to 'I want to kiss you right now' to 'I need a coffee' to 'Are you okay?'. This time he meant the latter, and sat up to place a hand on Ben's back, between his shoulder blades. Adam's hands were usually cold, but they never failed to calm him.

"Yeah," Ben said, sighing.

"So," Adam reached with his other hand to their small alarm clock, whose glowing numbers blinked 03.45. "Happy birthday. Nineteen."

"Not till four o' clock in the afternoon."

"Details."

They kissed. It was almost absent, an affirmation: everything's okay.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nah." Ben stretched. There was no point in rehashing the dream-conversation. He knew; Adam knew; they could only assume they'd eventually fade, or become less frequent, like the overwhelming grief and confusion of the very first weeks had. You didn't just _get over_ something like losing your family. If you did, there'd be far fewer hunters. "Go back to sleep," Ben said to Adam.

"Are you getting up?"

"…." There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Ben supposed he might as well.

"Want me to get up with you?"

Adam would, if he asked. He might even if Ben didn't ask. But they were both tired – they'd just gotten back from a salt-and-burn, very routine as hunts go, but it had required staying up all the previous night to track a ghost to its hidden burial place. The guy had been a loan shark, killed by a confederation of clients. It was anyone's guess whether his unfinished business was his murder or the money he was owed.

"No," Ben said after a moment. "I think…I'm just gonna go watch TV for a while."

"Okay," Adam yawned. "Wake me up if you change y'mind." He was already falling asleep again, sand-coloured eyelashes flickering closed. Ben felt a tug of affection. Endearments weren't Adam's style - or Ben's either, come to that. But the offer of support was real and heartfelt. Ben really could wake him up again if he needed to, and Adam would be glad he'd done it. Ben watched his face for a moment. Pale skin, high cheekbones. Slightly downturned mouth. By most people's standards, Adam was pretty hot. Ben could finally think that about another guy without it seeming weird. That wasn't why they were together though. Adam was kind, loyal, intelligent and impeccably trustworthy. But Ben wasn't even sure that was the reason either. Sometimes it seemed like necessity, or fate. They were the last surviving members of the Winchester extended 'family': all the heroes were dead. They were left alone to remember, get by, do what little good they could manage in the world. How could they not find each other?

Ben went to the bathroom and got a drink of water, by which time he felt wide awake. He went downstairs and clicked the old TV on to an infomercial for the new generation of Wonder Blades – the kitchen knife that stays sharp for life. "It slices through even the toughest joints like butter!" enthused the host.

"But does it work on werewolves?" Ben asked him, and Bobby Singer replied out of nowhere,

"Don't pretend ignorance."

Ben jumped out of his skin, though he ought to have learned that the old man could be surprisingly stealthy at times. Arthritis wasn't enough to turn an ex-hunter into a lumbering bear. Bobby had appeared in the doorway, holding a bottle of something in one hand and two glasses between his fingers. His other hand was occupied with his steel cane – a formidable looking knob-headed implement which Ben had no doubt could double as a weapon. He settled himself in his favourite straight-backed chair – it was his house, after all – set the glasses and bottle on the table and poured two generous shots of whiskey. His ancient dog Tara came padding in after and settled down by his chair. Ben hesitated, looking at the shot glass.

"For gawd's sake boy , take it," Bobby grumbled. "You think your generation _invented_ underage drinking?"

Ben downed the shot in one – a shame, because it was the good stuff. But Bobby seemed to understand the need to take the edge off fast. He sipped his own whiskey slowly.

"So," Bobby said. "Happy, uh…" he coughed. "I was going to give it to you in the morning but seeing as we're both up…second shelf, on top of the Daemonologie." He nodded in the direction. Ben stood up and retrieved a small, flat package, wrapped in brown paper.

"Thanks. You didn't have to …go to any trouble." Sometimes Ben still had a hard time accepting all Bobby did for them. He pretty much fed and housed them, though they made it a point to help out on the rare occasions they got paid for their job. The old man was probably the single best human being Ben had ever encountered, and he would never quite know how to tell him that.

"Didn't," Bobby grunted. "Had it already. Just waitin' for someone to come along as'll put it to good use."

In the package was a small, flat-bladed knife with an ornate handle.

"Relic," Bobby informed him. "Supposedly blessed by Solomon, or Suleman in this case. He's supposed to have done a lot of things. Anyhow, all I know is it doesn't degenerate, and it hurts demons."

"Can it kill them?" Ben looked up sharply. He had never encountered a demon himself, except for his glimpse that night.

"Never had a chance a to try it." Bobby eyed him. His watery blue eyes were intent, steady as he leaned forward in his chair. "I been saving this for you for a reason, Ben. I coulda given it to Adam. But I understand…if you ever find it….if you ever _want_ to find it…"

"I do," Ben said. He hadn't even thought about it. It was just – what they did, right? Now that he was a real hunter? Hunt down the things that destroyed their old lives and avenge the dead? Of course he would.

"Alright then," Bobby sat back. "Now don't goddam lose it. And turn that up," he nodded towards the television: "They're talking about the Cupcake Master  
3000. Damn, I gotta get me one of those."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The only person Ben had ever heard of who had tracked a demon down was John Winchester. Not from Dean, of course – he had heard it from Adam, who had heard it from Sam, who in his last years hadn't been averse to talking about their father. The heroic thing to do would've been to take John Winchester's journal with him: he knew where it was. Dean had a locked box of possessions which he'd kept from his previous life – mostly guns, a few fake ID cards, several faded photographs. He kept it there. It was probably the world's only guide to tracking your personal demonic nemesis.

Naturally, Ben had left it in Indiana.

He could pretty much excuse himself for that one – when Adam had shown up to bring him to Bobby's, over a year ago now, he hadn't exactly been thinking straight. He had quite literally arrived with nothing but the clothes on his back. But he'd learned enough regarding demons that he knew what he was looking for, and he started scanning for the national news for freak weather patterns, crop failure, lightning storms, sprees of unmotivated violent crime and/or disappearances. He found plenty of all of the above. Just not – together.

Adam knew what Ben was doing. He didn't comment, and Ben didn't talk to him about it. They continued taking local and semi-local jobs: a poltergeist at the museum in Brookings, a restless spirit just on the North Dakota border...the messiest was black dog, which cost them a badly sprained ankle (Adam), a good jacket (Ben), and the two front tires on the Ford Explorer (Adam's, but a loss to both). But by silent consent, they stopped taking on anything long-haul, anything that required serious investigation and an extended trip.  
Silent until Ben's nightmares started in the daytime.  
They were making a trip to the mini-mart for the basics. Bobby wasn't getting out much these days, so the bread, beer and burger run had pretty much become Ben's department. Though he was still limping, Adam had declared himself tired of sitting around and decided to come with. Ben placed the frozen box on the checkout belt –

- and his sight tunnelled to black and red, swirling, kaleidoscopic, and the black-eyed man laughed bitterly over the sound of screams. He was clutching a long knife, the blade stained maroon, and though Ben had never heard his mother scream, he knew it was her he was killing. The sound drowned him, he wanted to clamp his hands over his ears, but it was like he was no longer inside his body. Red and black seemed to smear like track-marks as the demon lifted the knife again, and Ben heard gurgling, choking – it raised its gaze and regarded him -

- and then he was sitting in the parking lot, tarmac cold through his jeans, with his back to the door of the Explorer. Adam's right hand was across his forehead, pushing his hair back but restraining him also: he was crouched on Ben's right side. His other hand was on Ben's thigh, and so Ben was extremely surprised when he registered another presence at his left. Adam was never demonstrative in public.

"Ben."

He made an effort to focus. Adam looked pained: scared, but grim. He slid his hand down the side of Ben's face, cupping his chin briefly. "Are you alright?"

"I saw it," Ben said numbly. "The demon. It had black eyes. God. If either of us was going to be psychic..." and he heard a choked little giggle. Then he realized it was him.

"He's been – um – having some problems," Adam said hurriedly to the person on Ben's left. "He's been through some stuff."

Ben made a small sound of protest, but in all fairness, he had just said the words _demon_ and _psychic_ in front of a civilian. Speaking of which...he slid his eyes to the left, still not feeling entirely in control of his physical body. A young woman, blonde, vaguely familiar, dressed in a green store shirt that read _Ask me about our new loyalty cards! _

"Black eyes?" she repeated.

"The doctors are talking about a new medication," Adam smiled charmingly. "Has he had any of these visions before?" The girl sounded serious.

"Only in my dreams," Ben told her: "Nightmares."

"Okay," the girl blew out a breath, causing her hair to dance in front of her face. "Listen to me. This is going to sound absolutely crazy, but please, just hear me out. You don't need a doctor – you're not nuts. But you're probably in danger. Has anything – weird –happened to you lately? Or around you? To other people?"

They both stared at her for a moment, and Ben felt his brain coming back online. The first thing he did was remember her name – it was Jane, and she'd once had a crush on him. She'd changed a lot over the year: her face had matured, and she'd cut her hair short somewhere along the line. She'd lost the glittery eyeshadow.

And apparently, she was a hunter.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,"_ said Adam experimentally.

"_Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii",_ she responded in surprise. "Oh! Well, I guess that explains the random dirt and injuries over the years . Not to mention the way you keep taking off for days at a time."

"You cover it up pretty well," Adam told her.

"Not me – my mom. I hold the job down and she hunts. Weird, but it works for us," she shrugged. "So this is the first time you've had a vision?" she offered a hand to Ben. He hesitated in taking it – but her attitude was all business now, and Adam assisted him too with a hand on his upper arm.

"I guess," Ben said as he found his feet, and leaned back against the car. "

"Let's go back to the house," Adam said, opening the car door on Ben's side and placing a hand on his lower back.

"We'll come back for the food another time."

"Don't worry about it," Jane indicated the grocery bag which they hadn't realized she'd been carrying. "On the house. Consider it a perk of our loyalty card scheme."

"Thanks," Adam took the bag from her and put it on the back seat.

"Listen...psychic communication is kind of my mom's speciality. She'll want to know about this...I mean...if you're cool with that. I could bring her up to the house later. I bet she can help you figure out what – what's happening."

Adam glanced at Ben. Ben nodded. He supposed it couldn't hurt. Jane had called it a vision, but, somehow...the term seemed wrong. It hadn't felt like watching a film. It had felt like a message. Nonetheless, his mother's screams, real or faked, would be haunting him for a long time to come. Another shiver ran up his body and he pressed against the seat. Adam gave Jane the phone number for Bobby's personal line. Then he came around and got into the car, put a hand back on Ben's thigh, and left it there all the way to the house, though he had to drive one-handed. Ben put one hand on top of Adam's, but turned his face away.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the afternoon was desultory – by the time they got home, Bobby had already received the call from Jane's mother's cell, and she'd told him she'd be there around seven-thirty. There was nothing to be done until then – the boys lifted some weights to keep in training, and Ben went for a run, alone. A moment of apprehension crossed Adam's face, but he didn't say anything. Outside of hunting, despite being the elder, he had never told Ben what to do or not, what was safe and what was dangerous.

June was on the downturn into July, and seven-thirty found all four of the house residents them sitting out on the porch. Adam sat in the shade, sharpening a steel knife with rhythmic strokes, Bobby in his recliner positioned to absorb the evening sun. Tara lay next to him with her tail tucked under and her head on her front paws. The dog had absorbed the mood of apprehension: every so often, she raised her head to look around, and thumped her tail on the decking as though in reassurance. Ben sat on the step with his chin in his hand, turned towards the gates. He was working to keep his mind blank and not anticipate anything. The vision – or whatever it was – lurked at the corners of his consciousness, blood and black eyes threatening to close in if he relaxed his constant effort.

At seven-thirty-eight a car's rumble became audible in the distance. A dust cloud gave way to a red Toyota, and as it entered the yard, Ben could see Jane in the front passenger seat. There was something a little bit awkward about just sitting there, so Ben and Adam stood up to greet their guests, offering handshakes:

"Tara Wakefield," the older woman introduced herself with a residual English accent, and the boys gave their real names. Of course the dog pricked up her ears upon hearing her own name, looked inquisitive, and started trotting towards the guests –

"Um," – this was rather embarrassing. "She's Tara too. I mean, that's her name." Ben indicated the dog.

"A good choice," human Tara approved, petted the dog's face and said, "for a wise animal."

Ben wondered if psychic ability extended to animals, as the two Taras seemed to commune with each other a moment.

"Hello Mr. Singer," said Jane politely. She had changed out of her work clothes. Tara spoke a few words with Bobby, then turned back to the boys:

"Let's go inside. I'm afraid this won' t be particularly pleasant, for you or me, Ben."

They arranged themselves around the kitchen table. Bobby set out iced tea but no-one really drank it. Adam sat close to Ben, then made to get up again:

"Do you the need the – curtains drawn? Or anything?"

"Not particularly," Tara addressed Ben: "Would that make you feel more comfortable?"

"I don't know," Ben said.

Adam got up and drew the curtains. Jane was busy setting out herbs in a little a dish. She drew a match and lit them. A heady scent filled the dull kitchen.

"Just try to relax," Tara said, "and recall the moments just before your vision."

Ben saw himself in the mini-mart again, reaching out his hand.

Tara touched his face. His eyes closed.

_Blank._

He felt static.

"Nothing," said Tara, sighed and sat back. Ben opened his eyes. To his shock, the kitchen was noticeably darker and most of the iced tea was gone. It felt like a minute had passed at most.

"All that for nothing!" Adam exclaimed.

"How – long-"

"A little more than an hour," Jane said quietly.

"That's how long it takes for a thorough determination," Tara sighed and sat back in her chair. "Ben Braedon, congratulations: you are not a psychic."

"I'm not?" Ben stupid and disorientated. He'd never lost time like that.

"Not even a hint of it," Tara shook her head.

"But then how-..."

"I'd suggest the demon is one. A particularly powerful psychic with an element of thought-control. That wasn't a vision – it was a message intended and sent directly to you."

"But – why? What's the point of it?" Ben heard the anguish in his own voice. Did that mean all his nightmares had also been orchestrated? Adam squeezed his fingers under the table, and Ben squeezed back, too hard.

"I have no idea. Was there anything in the message like an instruction?"

"No. It probably just wants to torture me." 'Oh God'. This meant the demon could torment him forever – replay his family's death in front of his eyes whenever it wanted to.

"I don't know...even for a powerful psychic, that kind of projection takes a lot of effort. I think if all it wanted to torment you, it would find an easier way."

"Maybe it doesn't know where he is," Adam suggested.

"Think hard," Tara urged. "I know you don't want to. But – was there anything in the vision besides the, um, murder?"

"I don't know," Ben buried his face in his hands. "It was just – in a warehouse – it was dark, and I heard my mom scream. It was stabbing her with a knife."

"What was the warehouse like?"

"Just...a warehouse! It was dark, and I couldn't see that much...there were crates, packing boxes."

"Did it say anything on the boxes?"

"Is this really necessary?" Adam said tightly.

"She wouldn't ask if it wasn't," said Jane.

"Um...no," Ben shook his head. "Just letters...wait." A flash of memory. A wooden crate. Behind the image of the demon. And printed on it: "It said: cap."

"Cap?"

"C-A-P."

"Does that mean anything to you?" Tara asked.

Ben's mouth fell open. "C-A-P! CAP LLC is a company. Was a packing and assembly in Indiana. My – my mum's boyfriend worked there for a little while. It went bust, and the warehouses were abandoned. It's in Indiana! It's at my home!"

"I would suggest you have your answer," Tara said quietly. "The demon is letting you know its location. It's summoning you."

"Then why didn't it just – show itself at my house?"

"I doubt it has the power for that degree of image manipulation. What you saw was probably – close to what really happened. I'm sorry," she added.

Ben felt numb.

"Thank you for your help," Adam said, getting up. He had that cool tone that he got when he was angry but there was no logical target for the anger.

"For what it's worth, you're quite welcome." Tara rose. "Any friend of Bobby Singer's, as the hunter adage has it."

The boys looked to Bobby, who looked implacable.

"I'm going to bed," said Ben abruptly. He pushed his chair back and stood up.

"Good idea," said Tara. "Call if there's anything else I can do...or if it...messages you again."

"Which reminds me – got a book you might be interested in, Ms. Wakefield," Bobby tugged at his cap.

"I hope this isn't any form of payment. If it wasn't for you, my brother and sister-in-law would be dead right now."

"Call it a mutual exchange of useful information." Tara smiled and the older people disappeared into the study.

Be careful, okay?" Jane said nervously to the boys. "Don't just – go running after it. That's what it wants, so it's probably got some trap planned for you."

"I've been in traps before," said Adam shortly. "I've turned traps on the trappers," This was about as impolite as Ben had ever seen him.

"On a demon?" Jane asked.

Adam frowned, and said nothing.

TBC

A/N: My apologies to CAP LLC, Cicero, IN, which, as far as I know, is in no danger of going bust in the imminent future


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, Adam edged the Explorer onto Interstate 90, heading for Indiana. At once, they were caught in a traffic queue. It was a hot, bright Saturday, the sky cloudless, and the Interstate was jammed with family cars: visiting relatives, taking day trips, all that stuff Ben had honestly done once and he supposed Adam had also. Exhaust fumes and horns persuaded them to keep the windows shut and crank up the AC.

Ben's knife was in a leather holder under his jacket, and the trunk fully stocked with their weapons. Bobby had supervised their inventory the previous night. Then he had quizzed them on the general and esoteric exorcisms before taking Ben aside.

"Now you listen to me boy. I understand you gotta do what you gotta do – believe me, I understand. Just don't – get reckless, is all I'm sayin'. You go into this like you go into any other hunt. Use your brain. Don't let your emotions cloud your judgement. When it's done – then you can think about it." Then he sent Ben to bed and summoned Adam. Ben never learned what passed between them.

They drove in silence. Not that they usually held heart-to-hearts on the road, but they talked about something – the case, where to stop for gas, what music to listen to. If this was a movie, the journey would be like a mirror to the one eighteen months ago – Ben would recognize every landmark, and everything would hold theme-music significance. In truth he didn't remember a lot of their first trip together. If asked to give directions, he couldn't do it.

"So you had any more...episodes?" Adam asked at last, sliding a glance sideways at Ben, who was looking out of the window. Ben snorted at his choice of term.

"I'm not _schizophrenic_."

"Messages then. Whatever." Adam's mouth was set in a grim line.

"No I haven't. I guess it knows I'm on my way like it wants me to be. And if you didn't want to come, you didn't have to."

"Oh, you think?"

"What is your _problem?_"

They had never really had a fight before. Hadn't been anything to fight about. Their relationship had been calm and quiet. Comforting. Ordinary.

"Oh I don't know," said Adam sarcastically, taking his eyes from the traffic queue to gesture expansively. "Maybe my  
boyfriend is about to risk his life on a revenge mission at the say-so of some girl we hardly know-"

"Are you _jealous_ of Jane?" Ben exclaimed.

"I'm – scared," Adam admitted haltingly. "Of – this whole situation. And - yes, I'm a little jealous," he looked rueful. "Sorry."

"There's no need to be jealous," Ben was mystified. "I'm not – I like _you._ Only you."

"Yeah. Sorry." Adam's eyes were back on the road. "It's not you. It's my problem. I told you hunting isn't conductive to long-term relationships." A bitter laugh. "Must be the number one profession for making people paranoid."

"It'll be okay," Ben said without absolutely no justification.

"Yeah."

They both looked out the windscreen.

"You know, I don't want you to die either."

"Well, thanks for that!" Adam laughed more genuinely this time.

"You know what I mean," Ben looked down at his hands. "I worry about you."

"Yeah. I do." Adam squeezed his thigh.

Ben should probably have left it there. But he found himself continuing: "Hey – you know...that guy you dated?"

"David."

"David. Did you, um, did he die?"

"Oh, no. Last I heard he was hunting a werewolf in Pennsylvannia."

"So...why did...you guys break up?"

"Because we didn't care enough about each other to make it worth it."

They stayed the night in a cheap motel – the clerk gave them a snide look at the double-bed request, but refrained from comment. Ben had realized at some point that plenty of people did have a problem with the fact two guys were together, and probably the correct response would've been a sense of injustice. Perhaps that would come in time, when his normal life felt more normal to him, but the past eighteen months had so transformed his world, taken him so far beyond the bounds of what most people thought about, that right now it barely registered. He couldn't have cared less if he'd wanted to. They found their room, and as Ben started to get undressed, Adam reached out and forcefully pulled him down on top of him. Surprised, Ben responded a little late to his open-mouthed kiss.

"Um, hi!" he said breathlessly when their faces were close together.

"I want you," Adam said seriously. His eyes were hot and his muscles hard and tense against Ben's skin.

"Okay!" This was unusual – they'd never had sex anywhere but their own bed. But long hours in the car with too much space between them left Ben quick to respond. Neither lasted long. Adam was – determined – and it wasn't _bad_, quite the opposite, but it was – different, and unsettling.

They lay quietly afterwards, bodies still touching.

"Ben?" Adam said. "What are we going to do when we get to Indiana?"

"You're asking me?"

"This is your baby."

"I guess find the warehouse for C.A.P. If it isn't there before us, cover the place in devils traps, wait till it shows up and then I'll stab it. If it is there before us we'll...improvise."

"It just seems too..."

"...much like walking into a trap?"

Adam shrugged, shoulder shifting into Ben's arm. "Yeah. It does."

"I suppose we could check the local news first. But if there's nothing we'll just – I'll just have to." Ben felt suddenly cold. "Listen, Adam. I meant what I said. I know you and me aren't – I mean...if this feels like a death trap – if you think there's no chance of you coming out of this alive – you don't have to-..."  
Adam pushed himself up on his elbow, took Ben's face in both hands and kissed him before he could finish.

"Whatever you and me are or aren't," he said when he pulled away, "We _are_ in this together. Don't say that again, Ben. I do love you."

"And I do. Love you, too."

"Good."

All the meanings of 'too' remained unspoken.

In the morning they got up at six and took quick, separate showers. The water was lukewarm and the pressure too low to make it anything other than cleanliness. There was nothing more to be said, and Ben felt a sense of surprisingly calm readiness. He offered to take first drive, the roads were clearer, and they made it to the Indiana border by lunch time.

TBC.


	5. Chapter 5

Ben couldn't avoid poignancy – he'd grown up in this town. Anybody would feel it - seeing your old school, your elementary school, looking small with unfamiliar paintings on the low walls...even if nothing had happened.

"Okay?" Adam asked, looking sideways at him.

"Yeah."

"Where d'you want to stay?"

"There's a bunch of motels in Noblesville. Shouldn't cost a lot."

Cicero wasn't a shithole town, and after a quick scout, they checked into the Super 8. Positively luxurious by their usual standards. Working A/C and a sanitary bathroom; the advertised 'lounge' was a snack counter with a few chairs and tables set out, but they hadn't come for the food. Once they'd dumped their stuff, Adam ran over to the newsstand attached to the motel, returned with two cokes and an armful of local papers.

Forty-five minutes later they had empty bottles and an equally list of options.

"Nothing," Adam said, flipping the final paper closed. "So...warehouses?"

"Fishers. C.A.P. had their business over in Fishers, I think." Ben thought. Vague flash of his uncle's truck. Uncle Will, huge in his overalls, stooping down and surprising him with a lollypop. They took off again. Every turn of the road familiar enough to feel like motion sickness.

"C.A.P?" said the site manager, scratching his hard hat as though he could scratch his head through it. "They went bust near decade ago."

"We know sir," Adam assured him. "We were wondering if you knew were they kept their materials."

The man regarded him suspiciously. "No idea. Probably one of the old derelicts up near Brackenwood. And hey – you can't just wander around here without safety gear."

"I don't know how to do this," Ben groaned, when they'd both been quite literally kicked to the curb and were sitting on the pavement across from the warehouse complex. It was a bright day, and the workers regarding them weirdly as they carted their wares between the buildings. "This isn't an investigation, it's a joke. How did they always know how find out stuff?" They referred to the dead now. There was no point in Ben saying 'Dean' or Adam saying 'Sam', because each had only really known one – but both understood they had been a team, that together they could solve anything.

"They did have more practice," Adam observed. "You know – my dad trained them from childhood. But they must have hit dead ends. It's probably you just...remember the eventful times."

Ben tried to imagine them sitting a motel room somewhere, younger perhaps, very young, papers spread out around them, frustrated and at a dead end and not knowing what to do. Impossible. "Do you think..." Ben raised troubled eyes. "Do you think I'm just – going crazy? Like I did have an 'episode' or whatever you called it? It doesn't feel like there's..." 'anything here', he finished in his head. The pavement was warm, the sky blue, and little kids were playing noisily out front of the childcare centre behind them.

"No," said Adam, firmly and quickly. "Ben, you...you didn't see you. I was scared, man. Something happened to you."

"Like a psychotic break?"

"Absolutely not." Adam stood up, brushed his jeans off. "He said there were derelicts out near –Brackenwood? You know where that is?"

"No." Suddenly charged, Adam turned around, and selected a general store from the row of buildings behind them. He ducked and returned a moment later carrying a local map. "Here," he pointed to a patch of greenery marked outside Cicero limits. "Brackenwood. Let's go." He offered his hand to Ben and hauled him up. This time Ben let him drive.

The drive meant nothing to Ben – unfamiliar – until they were outside the city and heading up a hill, and then as they crested it

- _it was morning, very early morning, and he'd stumbled down this road with his mother's blood soaking his jeans, splinters in his hands and feet, blinded by his own tears...heading back alone from the last journey they'd taken together - _

He heard a sound, half a scream, half a choked sob, and only realized it was him when he felt the answering scratch in his throat, reverberating. They were pulled over, on the side of the road, and Adam was pulling his hands away from his face.

"...what is it?"

"This is it," Ben choked out: "This is the place."

Adam peered anxiously into his face, still holding his wrists.

"They died up there," Ben jerked his head towards the crest of the hill. "The warehouse by the woods. I didn't remember until..." he drew a shuddering breath.

"Do you want to go back?" Adam whispered, running a hand up Ben's arm to cup the side of his face.

"No," Ben said, turning away from Adam and back to the road. "I want to...go there."

"Do you have the knife?"

"Yes."

"I have holy water and salt in my backpack. Chalk for traps. Are you sure?"

"Let's just go," Ben's fingers gripped the edge of seat. 'Alright you son of a bitch. You want me, here I come'. He mentally said it in Dean's voice in the hope it would sound more convincing. He kept his eyes on the road and his teeth gritted as memories assaulted him, images he'd forgotten his brain harboured. The curve of the path and the treeline had absorbed his nightmare, and they flooded it back to him in the bright summer daylight. Fuck it. He'd survived the journey down, he'd survive the one back up. Adam was next to him. That couldn't make anything okay. But he was, still.

The sight of the warehouse itself didn't do much. He was prepared for it. It was just an old warehouse. Dull. Busted-out.

"Wait," Adam said when he parked. He put his hand on Ben's leg. "Are you...do you...remember the exorcisms?"

"Yes," Ben said shortly. They got out. Maybe they should approach warily. But how? There was no cover directly around the warehouse, just the trees beyond it. It ought to feel like walking up to his doom. Whatever. Ben kicked the door open almost savagely.

And yes. He fucking remembered.

The dimensions of the room, the window, the positions of what was left of the bodies. The way daylight following darkness had changed the shapes of things. The feel of the still-warmth of what they had been. He couldn't help it. He jerked back outside abruptly and vomited the remains of his breakfast.

That done, he ducked into the warehouse, and joined Adam in chalking devils traps on every available surface. There were dark stains on the floorboards and he chalked right over them. They sat back to back in the middle of the chalked room and waited.

"I'm sorry," said Adam quietly after a long moment.

"Yeah," said Ben.

The morning wore on, and the only sound was the inappropriate rumble of Adam's stomach. It must have been mid-afternoon when Ben sighed and bowed his head to his knees.

"It won't come," he said. "What the fuck is the point in bringing me here if it won't fucking _come_?"

"Perhaps it can sense the traps," Adam said, and it could certainly sense something, because at that instant, with a searing pain, the demon made itself known again in the darkness behind Ben's eyes.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

_First it just turned its black eyes to him. Held his unreal gaze. Here I am, come and get me, it taunted him, before his vision expanded to take in –_

_- the lounge of the Super 8, with its flimsy plastic tables, its snack counter spattered with blood, tables overturned, one chair through a window. The broken bodies of the customers and the cashier lay like discarded rag dolls, heads and limbs twisted at impossible angles. The cashier was still twitching -_

_- the demon stood smiling in the middle of it, calm at the eye of its private storm. It had taken a different body – this time it possessed a small middle-aged woman. It mouthed the word 'soon' –_

- and then Ben was lying on his side, Adam's hands on his head and hip, with the bitter taste of bile in his mouth and a little pool of some gross liquid on his chin and the floor by his face. He blinked a couple of times as the swirling red-grey stuff in front of his eyes dissipated.

"I'm sorry," said Adam. "You were throwing up. Or – trying to. I don't think there was much to...you know..."

"Ugh." 'Awesome'.

"You okay now? Want to sit up?"

Adam propped him against the cabin wall and handed him a water bottle. Ben washed his mouth out and spat it onto the floor.

"I'm...not going crazy."

Adam offered a small smile. "Told you so. So...?"

"We have to hurry." Ben pushed himself to his feet, using the wall for a little support as the grey stuff threatened to slide over his eyes again. Adam grabbed his arm to steady him but he didn't question him or object. Only asked,

"Why?"

"It's at the motel. Or it will be. Soon. It's going to kill everyone."

"Are you – sure?"

"Yes. It knows I'm here and it can't get to me because of the devils' traps."

The drive back was a blur, but when too slow.

"What if-"

"What?" Ben asked Adam.

"What if I went in first?" Adam's eyes left the road. "I mean, it's after you, right? It's going to be expecting you to come in. So say I go first and – distract it – I'd let you kill it."

Something twisted in Ben. Surprised. They weren't like that.

"If it makes you feel better, this is tactical. I assure you I'm not the martyr type."

Ben fell silent.

The Explorer's engine squeaked as Adam slammed it into park and an abrupt halt over two parking spaces. They sprinted for the lobby, and Ben had just time to register the alarmed stares of a family embarking from a 4x4 – probably the first time anybody had considered him dangerous. They made straight for the glass doors leading into the lounge –

- to be greeted by the sight of the cashier counting the change in the till, and a customer reading the paper.

They halted together and stood there, panting.

"Can I...help you?" said the cashier doubtfully.

"Um..." Ben's hand went to the hilt of his knife. "Is everything...okay?"

"I'm sorry?" said the cashier. "It's all o-_kay_...the sandwiches are made fresh on premises, but the soup of the day's from a can".

"I mean are you...is she..." Ben gestured vaguely towards the customer.

"Sorry, wrong door," Adam smiled charmingly, and put his hand on Ben's arm as though to drag him away.

"Oh I don't think so," said the cashier, smiling in return, slammed the register shut with a cheerful _ping_ and looked up to reveal his eyes turning slow definitive black. "We have business." Ben's hand returned to the hilt of his knife but he kept it carefully concealed.

Adam made a move towards the civilian. The woman lowered the newspaper to reveal that her eyes were equally black. Watching Adam's eyes flicker to ceiling, right and left, the first demon said,

"Don't worry about _them_. We're not here to pick off vacationers. I'd worry about _you_."

"Really, Benjamin?" said the customer-demon. "Bringing your little boyfriend? You really are determined to have everyone who's protected you slaughtered, I see. Who's next, the old cripple? The dog?"

The horror of violation – he could feel it broaching his mind, cold groping fingers pressing at the corners of his consciousness. He wanted to drop the knife, grab his skull.

"Well well well," the cashier's black eyes widened. "Who'd have thought it? Quite the little slut in the bedroom, for one so determinedly _not a queer_."

From the corner of his eye, Ben saw Adam's face blanch slightly, immediately recovering. Adam's grip on his gun faltered for half a second, though he kept it trained on the customer-demon, for whatever good silver bullets would do against them. The fleeting expression was surprise - hurt. Guilt settled like a rock in Ben's stomach, but he pushed it aside for later. "What do you want with me?" he tried to spit at the demon he was marking. It came out more of a strained whisper.

"_We_ don't want anything," said the customer-demon, "We're just the messengers. Happen to have a few...talents..." it gestured to its head, and then Ben's. "And we certainly don't want anything with _him_. I still don't see why you brought him." It raised a hand, and Adam's eyes widened fractionally, his mouth opened, before he was sent hurtling backwards into the counter. The see-through plastic cracked with the force. He slumped to the base, unconscious, his head leaving a thin trail of blood on the display of cakes and pastries. Ben's insides tightened, but he made no sudden movements. His days of grief-stricken recklessness were behind him. The only way he could help Adam was to keep calm. Keep them talking.

"So you're the lackeys," he played their game, inching towards the now-unguarded customer demon. The weight of his knife-hilt anchored him. Kept him focused.

"Call us what you like," it shrugged. "When we get the reward for _you_, we'll be something beyond all imagining."

"You believe the boss, huh?" He was almost close enough for the killing blow. But he would have to lean over a chair to do it. "Honest reputation?"

"You humans are just so prejudiced," sighed the cashier. "We're not all lying scumbags. I mean, we gave you fair warning, didn't we? Really, a knife under your jacket? What part of psychic powers don't you understand?"

The knife twisted, ripped from his hand, and flew across the room to clatter uselessly against the far wall. He panicked and turned abruptly towards the cashier, allowing the other demon to bring something heavy down hard on the back of his head. A crack he assumed was his skull was the last thing he heard before everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

Ben had been concussed before – on his very first hunt, as it happened – but he could tell even before he came awake that this was much, much worse. Something hot and wet had pooled at the base of his skull and it throbbed in time with his heartbeat – nausea welled up from his stomach simultaneously, and he guessed from the smell and sticky feeling down the front of his shirt that he'd puked at least once. His entire body felt liquidated, and he wondered if the demon had somehow poisoned him whilst he was unconscious –

– the demon. His eyes jerked open and darted frantically across his surroundings, causing fresh jolts of agony to slice through his head and back. He was in a warehouse – of course he was – though not the particular one by the woods, which implied his and Adam's traps had at least kept them from that little piece of psychological torture. The demon was perched on an upturned crate, watching him – its expression and posture a bizarre stark contrast to the thin body and lank sandy hair of the twenty-something cashier it was riding. Its eyes were black and beadily alert, and it smiled enthusiastically at his returning awareness.

"Welcome back," it said and unfolded the cashier's legs languorously. "I was starting to think you'd sleep the whole time, and we'd never even get to know each other before I handed you over."

Ben tried to move. It was stupid, but a natural reaction. He was propped against a pole, arms stretched behind him and tied around it at the wrists with what felt like wire. He probably couldn't have broken it at full strength, leave alone in his current condition. Pulling at it caused it to tighten, cutting harshly into his wrists. His ankles were likewise bound, but he couldn't make his vision steady for long enough to judge with what material. The cashier-demon just stared at him. Still smiling.

"Is that guy dead?" Ben didn't know why he cared, particularly. And also, talking hurt.

"What guy?" the demon taunted him. "It's just you and me here baby. You forget your boyfriend's name already? Hell. I know you're an internalized homophobe with a paradoxical inability to keep your pants up, but don't you think-"

"Shut up," Ben grated. "I meant the goddamn cashier." He couldn't bring himself to ask about Adam.

"Oh, he's alive. Believe me. I have to put up with enough of his whimpering and cringing inside here. But who cares, he's boring. _You're_ interesting. Only offspring of the Sainted Vessel and all that shit, which is _remarkable_ considering what a whore he was-"

"You think…" the room was tilting, either due to his concussion or the shock he couldn't help but react with, his unsteady vision making objects blur and stretch into each other. "No. Dean wasn't my father. My mom did a test when I was a baby..."

"You have a remarkable memory," said the demon dryly.

"She wouldn't...why would she lie about something like that?" He ought to stop talking and ignore it. He was playing into its hands, giving it ammo. But the prospect...if there was the slightest chance...

...then he was the single sickest fucker alive.

He hadn't _wanted_ to love him.

"Oh I don't know," the demon shrugged. "Maybe she thought it would be easier on you than having a dad who popped in and popped out as the whim took him. Thought you would get less attached...but we all know how well _that_ worked out, right? And you call _us_ twisted."

"You still haven't said what you want with me. Boss keeping you in the dark on that?"

"To _investigate_ you of course, you dipshit. You're the closest genetic match alive to Dean Winchester, who unfortunately got himself killed when your dear old mom tried to get in the way of the proceedings. _Then_ you were bait – now you're the best catch around. We're going to open you up and find out what it was that made the daddy you resemble such a special deal...and if that doesn't work, we'll try Adam." It hissed the last utterance, coming up close and pressing the edge of a dull knife against his throat, not cutting, threatening, and its rank breath assaulted his face, and its eyes gleamed hungrily. Ben shrank instinctively against the pole, trying to get away from it, and it hunched closer, digging the knife in in unrestrained eagerness, until Ben felt the first trickle of blood at the sensitive skin of his throat. 'It's lost it,' he thought, 'it's going to kill me now', but then the electric lights sparked in the walls, the warehouse flickered dark and light again, and the door swung open to reveal a second demon. It was possessing a short petite woman, looked like a soccer mom, but it radiated power in its stride and every light flickered and crackled again as it entered. An electric wire snapped and swung down from the ceiling, spitting like a snake.

"Master," grovelled the cashier-demon, practically genuflecting. "I have him."

"Good work," said the new demon calmly. "Consider your contract filled." It made a casual gesture, and the lackey demon fell to its knees, made a choked off scream. Its eyes swelled with black blood, overflowing their sockets, and charcoal smoke streamed from its mouth to dissipate immediately into empty air. The cashier's body collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut and lay stone-still on the floor. The master demon barely spared it a glance, but strode straight for Ben:

"Benjamin," it greeted him, and the wires surrounding his wrists snapped as it pulled him up by his shirt front. "I'm so pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Your mom and dad were a beautiful kill – such rich red blood – but unfortunately for you, it wasn't murder I wanted. If your mom had just kept her nose out – if your dad had come alone – well, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we? But then he always had a nasty habit of getting his family slaughtered."

Ben tried to struggle, on principle, really, but its grip was like iron. All the rage he had ever felt for it was back, full force. He could barely think over the pain in his skull, but he didn't need to – all the hate he had so long harboured was surging through him, he could see only its face. The demon opened its mouth to draw breath, wide, as though it would swallow him

– then the window shattered and it reeled back at the force of a silver bullet.


	8. Chapter 8

The demon snarled and jerked towards the shattered window, sparing a glance for the bullet-hole in its chest. The wound was smoking with the damage from the silver. It cursed as a second bullet followed the first, this one thudding into the body's shoulder, and Ben realized he ought to be doing something -  
_  
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus  
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion-"_

Then his mouth closed abruptly, breath stolen as the demon jerked a hand out towards him. The air whined with the sound of a feedback loop as Adam's voice took over through the amplification of a megaphone.

"_Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,  
omnis congregatio et secta diabolica." _

The noise sent jerks of agony through Ben's head, but on the plus side it seemed to be having the same effect on the demon. As it demon jerked and struggled to remain in the body, Adam kicked out the rest of the window and climbed in. A dark bruise marred the right side of his face and there was blood on his shirt – his or someone else's, it wasn't obvious. He made straight for the body of the fallen demon and extracted Ben's knife from its belt. Unable to deal with two fronts of resistance, the demon had released Ben's vocal chords, and he was able to go on with ritual long enough to keep the demon struggling as Adam moved in quickly and with one strike, stabbed it in the chest.

Adam darted back. The demon's entire being seemed to flicker and shudder. Its eyes flashed and its body jerked as it screamed. Light flickered up from inside it, illuminating the body, and the lights in the warehouse flickered in sympathy. It turned to Ben with a last, vicious look in its eyes, as though it would have said something, and then collapsed.

The warehouse sputtered into darkness.

Adam didn't say anything. He was already busy untying Ben's wrists and ankles, one hand going instinctively to the back of his head as though he wanted to touch but restraining himself. Rather thanthanking him – or berating him for taking the kill that Ben had been waiting for – Ben lurched forwards as soon as his wrists were free and puked all over his shirt.

Adam suggested a hospital twice, which was one time more than they usually tried to direct each other. Ben said no in the warehouse and no again in the car. Adam dropped it.

The unfortunate people the demons had ridden were completely, categorically dead. There was no regret in Adam's eyes as he checked over the body he had shot and stabbed. They drove in silence for a little while. Ben felt numb, blanker than he had since the night that demon had taken his family. Family. Literal family. Maybe. Demons lie. But they also tell the truth sometimes.

"Stay awake Ben," said Adam worriedly.

"I am awake."

"We uh...have to get out of the state I think. the motel's kind of ruined. Our faces will probably be on the news soon...most of the people were dead. I guess that means we can't go back to Indiana," Adam said as though just realizing it. "I'm sorry."

"No more reason to come back here," Ben said.

"Should I...um..I didn't know if there was time to get the knife to you, and uh, get you untied. Or if you were capable – I mean well enough. I had to kill it."

"Yeah. Th - thank you."

"I don't know if you should be thanking me."

"You saved my life. Again. You keep doing that."

"Well you are sort of my boyfriend," Adam smirked.

"How did you...?" They weren't going to get into 'I'm so glad you're alive'. It was given. Ben wasn't about to consider the possibility of Adam dying until and unless it happened in his lifetime. He just – wasn't.

"Wasn't hard," Adam shrugged with his hands on the steering wheel. "I guess they assigned me the loser demon. Found the megaphone with some kid's cheerleading equiptment...I've seen them come in handy before with demons."

"What was your plan before you found it?"

"I...didn't have one. Just – find you." Adam paused. "We should stop. As soon as we get across the state border. We need to get you looked at...I could call Bobby and ask if there's anyone in the area who could take a look at your head..."

Ben couldn't help but bark with laughter. Take a look at his head. Yeah, he needed that.

"He'll want to know we're safe anyway."

Ben said nothing. They pulled up at their usual class of motel – one step above rat infested –  
Adam pulled off hishis blood-and-puke-stained shirt and put his jacked back on before booking them a room and coming back to help Ben from the car. Ben wanted to push him off, but didn't trust his knees enough to hold him. The room was blank and suited his mood – blank walls, dull blank sheets, a hard chair with no cushions and a broken TV set showing nothing. Adam wanted to clean out the wound at the back of Ben's skull, give him painkillers, make him sit down but not lie down so he didn't fall asleep. His fingers felt cold on Ben's skin. He wondered if there was such a relational category as half-uncle.

"Are you angry with me?" Adam asked, finally, sounding younger and more unsure than Ben had ever heard him.

"No," said Ben without even thinking. He just – wasn't. Maybe he hadn't done what he was supposed to do. What he would have done, what Bobby expected of him. But the demon was dead. And his family was dead. And that chapter could be closed. Except it couldn't.

"Have you ever known anyone who committed incest?"

They were lying on the bed, side by side. Or, Ben was lying, on his stomach with his head turned to the side because it took the pressure of his head and spine. He could feel every bruise down his back, but distantly, as thought it belonged to someone else. Adam was sitting propped against the headboard, pretending to read.

"What?" he asked.

"Have you ever known anyone who committed incest?" Ben repeated: "As in, sex with a family member? You were in love with Sam but you said you'd never do anything. Ever know anyone who did it?"

How do you kill a djinn?"

"This isn't a concussion thing. I just want to know."

"No I haven't," Adam looked at him uneasily. "Why?"

"No reason." Ben closed his eyes.

"Don't go to sleep yet."

"I'm not asleep."

"Hey...let's take a holiday when we get home. It's over. We killed it. We should celebrate, yeah? When you feel like it?"

"Okay, sure."

Adam closed his book and slid down the bed, kissed Ben's lips and put a hand on his jaw. Ben didn't resist or respond. Adam sat back up.

"I really should call Bobby," he said, and went to find his phone.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hi."

Ben looked up to see Jane, standing at the bottom of the porch steps and shielding her eyes from the sun. She was wearing her minimart T-shirt and carrying a small rucksack over one shoulder.

"Am I...interrupting anything?"

Ben glanced around himself with a dry smile – at the deserted porch, still day, and Tara dozing half-lidded under one of the chairs. In the two days since he and Adam had arrived back at Bobby's, Ben had kept himself to himself, quietly rebuffing Adam's attempts at intimacy or banter. Last night Adam had slept in the spare room. He hadn't seemed angry about it. Just gathered up his stuff with one arm and said calmly, "I'll be across the hall." It hurt – but Ben couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. It was saner this way, after all. Bobby could see very well that something had come between them, but he didn't say anything. Just gave them both a congratulatory drink upon killing the demon, and didn't press them for details.

Sensing Jane, Tara twitched her short tail back and forth, as though to invite her to come up.

"So." Jane sat down next to Ben. "It's dead?"

"It's dead."

"I guessed you wouldn't come back if it wasn't. Come back in one piece, I mean. Speaking of which...how're you doing?"

"Okay. Won't be running any marathons anytime soon." Self-consciously his hand went to the back of his neck, where dark bruising was visible. Jane glanced, then looked away.

"I guess not." Pause. "Hey I uh... brought you something." She rifled in the backpack and produced a large bag of M&M's, which she handed to him and he put out his hands to receive as a reflex motion. "Congratulations present. I didn't know what you like, but these are my favorite candy. Well actually the peanut ones are my favorite, but I didn't know if you were allergic or something...what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Ben blinked, jerking himself forcibly from the weight of memory, and set the bag down on the step next to him. "Thanks. Thanks. That's...really nice of you."

"Phew. For a second I thought you were one of those freaks that didn't like chocolate." She grinned. They sat in silence for a moment, watching a squirrel come nosing around the exhaust pipe of a rusty Mustang. As they looked, it reached in with one paw and dexterously extracted a nut it had obviously stashed earlier. Jane laughed. Ben didn't.

"So um..." she shifted. "Where's Adam? Oh hey! Is everything alright between you guys?"

"What do you think about consensual incest?"

Jane sputtered. "I'm sorry?"

Ben shrugged. "I just want to know what you think. Say if two people really liked each other, but then they found out they were related."

"You mean like those siblings who get separated as children, and then they meet as adults and fall in love? It's read about that. It's really sad, I feel sorry for them."

"Do you think they should just – run away, and be together? Is it right?"

"I don't know! I never really thought about it. I guess if they're not hurting anyone, and they aren't going to make mutant babies or anything...what's this about?"

"Adam and I are together." Ben drew a deep breath. He didn't know why he was telling her this, but after seventy-two hours of agonizing, he found the words spilling out of his mouth.

"Um, yeah. I kind of got that...but you're not-" a look of dawning comprehension widened her eyes. "You're not like _brothers_, are you?"

"No!"

"Oh."

"But the thing is...I loved someone. I mean, really loved him. He's dead, but I still do. I'd have done anything he asked me to. Kill, die...sometimes I thought I was going crazy, it was so intense inside me. I could've screamed from the top of a building that Ioved him. Sometimes at night I used to cry." Cry and jerk off at the same time, to be perfectly frank about it.

Jane looked sympathetic. "But nothing ever happened."

"It couldn't. He was straight, for one thing. Also - with someone. Someone else I cared about. Anyway. Right before Adam killed the demon, it said, said, it said... ."

"Oh," Jane breathed out. "Well. I wouldn't worry about that. Demons lie. It's their MO."

"But...the thing is...there's a chance that he was! I mean, circumstantially. And people used to think it because, well, I look like him. Kind of. I mean he was much better looking and all, but the resemblance is there."

"I see." Jane bowed her head for a moment, short blond strands falling across her face. "Well," she said after a pause. "In any case, he's dead. We can't help how we feel about people. Like those siblings. I don't see that there's any point in feeling guilty about it."

"You don't understand," Ben said miserably, "There's more. This person, this person that I loved...he was Adam's half-brother. That means Adam and I are related, if the demon is telling the truth."

"Oh." Jane looked troubled. She turned her eyes towards the horizon. Ben felt blank. He assumed he had just lost a friend and ally.

Then Jane said, "You know, in really traditional Judaism, uncles can marry nieces."

Ben looked at her incredulously.

"Aunts can't marry nephews thought. On Rhode Island, there's a special law allowing Jewish uncles and nieces to marry. Also, in some states you can marry your cousin."

"That's...weird."

Jane shrugged. "It's all a bit arbitrary really, isn't it. Where these rules come from. I guess in the olden days people did it all the time. When they lived in tribes or whatever. I bet they never even thought twice about it." She picked up a pebble and threw it down the steps. "I guess for people like us – I mean, hunters – it takes a lot to shock us, you know? We know most people don't know anything about anything."

"You don't...think I'm fucked-up," Ben said cautiously.

"I never said _that_," Jane grinned. "I just – think it's a fucked-up world, Ben. And that most people who think they know what's right really, really don't, and that for the like, however many zillions of years humans have existed, we've changed the definition of right and wrong more times and ways than anybody even knows. I can think of a hell of a lot of worse things than two people who may or may not be related having good consensual sex. Hell, I've seen a lot worse things. But you have to tell him," she turned to Ben, serious, intent. "He has to make an informed choice. Or it isn't fair."

Ben winced. "Yes."

"Good," Jane stood up and brushed her jeans off. "And then come and talk to me. And don't let the dog eat the candy," she added, as Tara had come slinking up whilst they were talking and was nosing the bag of M&M's for an opening. Ben grabbed it.

"Thanks," he said, suddenly warmed with gratitude. "You're – you're a friend, Jane."

"No problems. Hey, is it alright if I tell my boyfriend that you and Adam are together? He's been getting a little insecure about me hanging out here," she rolled her eyes.

"Um – okay. Just – wait till I've told Adam first, alright? Then if we still are together, you can tell him."

Jane nodded and hitched her bag up on her shoulder. She patted Tara's head quickly and headed for the gates.

TBC – Conclusion coming next Friday.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hi," Ben shuffled his feet a little and hovered in the doorway.

"Hi," Adam put down the book of binding spells he was studying where he sat on the spare bed.

"Um, can I come in?"

Adam gestured for him to do so.

"Okay. First, I want to apologize." Ben took the old wooden chair near the door, which creaked  
warningly. "I've been acting like a dick the past three days."

"Yeah, you have," Adam agreed. "But it's understandable."

"But its not _your _fault – you killed it. You've put up with a lot of crap from me and I...I don't want you to think that I take you for granted." Ben realized it as he said it. Adam wasn't Dean – he was real and tangible, imperfect, a human on the same level as other humans – but he was good, kind and intelligent and capable, and Ben ought to feel _lucky_ that Adam wanted him.

Adam shrugged. "I don't. And hey, I don't take you for granted either, you know."

"Well I am," Ben shrugged. "Granted, that is. He is – he's long dead, and everyone else in the world except you...I can't imagine...being with. It's like it's just us now. The only ones  
left."

Adam said nothing, but extended his arm, inviting Ben to come sit on the bed with him. Ben closed his eyes.

"Wait. There's something you need to know. If we're going to – stay together. Make this – a commitment."

"What?"

Ben opened his eyes, met Adam's, and said, "There's a strong possibility that Dean was my biological father."

The only sound in the room was the tick of the old grandfather clock. Mockingly loud. Brutal. Adam's mouth opened and close a little. It was strange. He was rarely speechless. Finally Ben said,

"I'll go now."

"No, wait!" Adam held up his hand. "It's just – wow. That's a lot to take in, you know? Wow. I mean, why would you think that?"

"He and my Mom were together at the right time. I look like him – you must have noticed."

"You look like your Mom, in the photos-"

"I look like them both. Combined. And he treated me like a son, and Mom – seemed okay with that. All the other guys...I mean, not that she dated tons, but sometimes she did, and if they started getting too Dad-like with me she got weird about it. But not Dean. And then, before you came...the demon said so."

"Oh."

"But...I suppose the truth is I'll never know. I just have to live with that. That maybe I was in love with my father," saying it brought a bitter taste to his mouth. He felt sick.

Adam chuckled without humor. "Oedipus had nothing on us, huh?" He put his head in his hands.

"Us?"

"Hell, you already know I was in love with my half-brother. Who am I to judge?"

"But it means...it would mean you're my...uncle? Kind of."

"Yeah. I guess it would."

"So...that's pretty sick right? I mean, we shouldn't...in Bobby's house..." What would the old man think, who had been so kind to them? Throw them out on their asses? Ben wouldn't blame him.

Adam raised his head. His eyes met Ben's – calm blue. "Our parents shouldn't have been killed, rapists shouldn't walk out of court, and George Bush shouldn't have president." He shrugged. "The truth is, it's crossed my mind, Ben. You never mentioned your father. And you're right – you look like a combination of them. But I dismissed it – and I suppose that means I don't care. I love you. I'm glad you were brave enough to tell me. That shows what I already knew about you – you're not a selfish person."

"I had help," Ben admitted. "From Jane." Adam loved him. That was the first time either of them had used the word. Slipped it in almost casually as though he hadn't even thought about it.

Adam looked a little surprised. "I'll...have to thank her for that. The point is, I don't care if you don't. I still want to be together. If you do."

"I do." Do – want to be together, or love Adam? To save himself from elaboration, Ben got up and crossed the room, stood astride his boyfriend's thigh, and turned Adam's face up for a kiss. It was returned. It didn't send sparks down his body at first - more affirming. Reassuring. But then again, he was nineteen, and he hadn't had sex in close to a week. It didn't take long for his body to start responding, despite the fact he was tired, physically, emotionally. It turned out that Adam – ever practical – had supplies in the drawer even of the spare room. Ben almost laughed at that.

"We're okay," he told Adam afterwards, and he believed it.

"Yeah," said Adam peaceably. He apparently wasn't concerned by the fact Ben hadn't returned his statement of love.

"I can't believe its dead," Ben said finally, and let himself feel it.

"Do you think you can move on, now?" Adam propped himself up on one elbow, studying Ben intently.

"I don't know. Moving on? What does that even mean?"

"I guess...when it doesn't determine your life anymore. When you stop waking up and going to sleep thinking about it."

"Did that happen to you?"

"Yes. Eventually. Of course I can still bring it back – all of it. But its been ten years since my Mom was killed, and Sam made his decision."

"You never did catch the ghoul?" Ben asked, tracing the line of Adam's shoulder absently.

"No. But I've...I guess I've made peace with it."

"Pity I wasn't psychic. Maybe I could've found it for you."

"Maybe," Adam smirked. "I'm quite glad you're not though. Our lives are complicated enough as it is."

"I guess so."

They fell silent.

"So are we going to tell Bobby?" Ben asked.

"Why? It would only disturb him."

"I just feel it's...dishonest," Ben confessed. "Like we're taking advantage, because if he  
really knew us..."

Adam lay back. "I don't know." He said. "I mean – I hate to say this but – Bobby's _old, _Ben. And he's seen so much. I just...want him to have as much peace as he can, now." _Near the end. _They both heard it.

"I suppose you're right," Ben closed his eyes, feeling sleep creeping up on him. Dusk through the drawn curtains shadowed the room. He felt resolution and irresolution. He had not killed the demon. The demon was dead. The ghoul still lived, but it lived a ghoul's existence. They had made some kind of family, but on tenuous grounds. Bobby was older every day, and their job was dangerous, and their possibly-incestuous relationship of quite compatibility was probably the weirdest in the history of weird relationships. His Mom and Dean were still dead.

When he was young he had liked all the day's problems and worries to be sorted out before he went to sleep, so that he could wake up fresh in the morning.

Now he could sleep anyway.

- The End -

Thanks to everyone who has commented or messaged regarding this story. I really value it. There will be a third and final story in this trilogy, though I can't really start it at least till I've a) drafted the section of my Phd project that I'm working on right now and b) marked 45 undergraduate essays. So I don't know when, but I know what it will be about. x


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